Up (town) in Smoke
July 4, 2003
PLANS is a recurring splinter in my paw. On our second date, I took Courtney to the Highland 10 movie theater in Austin to watch ???. We arrived (on time) to discover that the advertised wasn't showing at all. Courtney, understandably, had a different interpretation of the problem at hand, which she would report to her sister Elizabeth when debriefed on the outcome of date #2 with funny looking Mexican guy (me): I'd messed up the plans. "He's a non-planner."
By the way, it was NOT the case of a Friday movie advertised the preceding Thursday. As either the Austin Chronicle or the Austin American Statesman or both would prove, it really was a bogus movie listing that nearly KO'd our, at the time, future (now current) relationship. Courtney had a HISTORY with a certain NON-PLANNER before me who had caused her alertness and vigilance of all other NON-PLANNERS to be raised to level orange (I don't know what they called their alertness levels before Tom Ridge's paranoia palette).
That's some of the background on our PLANNING issue. Every Friday around 5:30 I get a call inquiring about our PLANS for the weekend. Most times, I (therefore we?) have none. You'd think I'd learn. I may not be a non-planner, but I'm certainly no über-planner.
Yesterday, after wiping up the splattered remains of our loosely made PLANS, we (mostly I, as I recall) furiously clicked and pecked at various household computers to find something to occupy the precious hours that the July 3rd "half day" working day had left us. I suggested Kavehaz (get it? "coffee house"), a laid back Jazz bar in SoHo. Usually a good standby, it was temporarily closed for a move to new digs. We came up with a few more Jazz clubs (mine, no cover; Courtney's, cover) and in a rare assertive moment I decided we would go to a place called Smoke, on Broadway and 105th (almost Harlem). Mostly on the strength of customer reviews like this.
Using Citysearch's handy "places nearby" feature, I jotted down the addresses of six nearby, moderately well user-reviewed, restaurants. We laced up and headed up, through the park, for the nice long walk (in surprisingly cool weather 70°F) to 105th street.
This story was meant to be about the fantastic band we saw at Smoke, the Neal Smith sextet, but the back story took over the front and middle stories.
These guys are what living in New York is all about: semi-random encounters with people at the top of their field. Here was a group of players, half really really good, the others great. One of the really really good ones, Vincent Gardener, is currently playing with Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. These guys (Neal Smith sextet) were sick. They played tight, together, so together they made it look easy. They were so restrained at times -- half the band would drop out, walk off the floor-level, 8 foot by 16 foot, "stage", for long sections of many songs. From there, they play the occasional fill, un-miked. Then gradually rejoin the band on stage.
The band would transition from a raucous horn or piano plus drums duet to a slow, quiet, sexy-smooth sax solo. I generally am not impressed with sax players (the instrument lets them play lots of notes real fast, so they almost always do). The band's two sax players, Abraham Burton (tenor) and Andrew Beales (alto, the only white guy), were exquisite. I was in awe. They were both restrained, melodic, with dynamic changes (they'd play loud AND soft), with clean tone but with guttural punctuations of sound.
The piano player, Ronnie Mathews, was great. He looked elegant and played elegantly. It would be nice to hear him by himself sometime. The rest of the band: Neal Smith (drums) and Paul Beaudry (bass), I'll say
again, were really really good.
The audience was prime too. "Real Jazzheads," to quote a guy we shared a table with. That makes a big difference. At Kavehaz, which we love, you have to sit up close to hear the band over the scene-sters and yuppies talking their ultra-consumerist, gossipy noise.
By the way, it was NOT the case of a Friday movie advertised the preceding Thursday. As either the Austin Chronicle or the Austin American Statesman or both would prove, it really was a bogus movie listing that nearly KO'd our, at the time, future (now current) relationship. Courtney had a HISTORY with a certain NON-PLANNER before me who had caused her alertness and vigilance of all other NON-PLANNERS to be raised to level orange (I don't know what they called their alertness levels before Tom Ridge's paranoia palette).
That's some of the background on our PLANNING issue. Every Friday around 5:30 I get a call inquiring about our PLANS for the weekend. Most times, I (therefore we?) have none. You'd think I'd learn. I may not be a non-planner, but I'm certainly no über-planner.
Yesterday, after wiping up the splattered remains of our loosely made PLANS, we (mostly I, as I recall) furiously clicked and pecked at various household computers to find something to occupy the precious hours that the July 3rd "half day" working day had left us. I suggested Kavehaz (get it? "coffee house"), a laid back Jazz bar in SoHo. Usually a good standby, it was temporarily closed for a move to new digs. We came up with a few more Jazz clubs (mine, no cover; Courtney's, cover) and in a rare assertive moment I decided we would go to a place called Smoke, on Broadway and 105th (almost Harlem). Mostly on the strength of customer reviews like this.
Not the usual fleecing like the more established clubs. A real player's club - ie [sic] it's very much of a musician's hang. On any given night you might see loads of people that often play there including some real ledgends [sic]. -- wolfereeno
Using Citysearch's handy "places nearby" feature, I jotted down the addresses of six nearby, moderately well user-reviewed, restaurants. We laced up and headed up, through the park, for the nice long walk (in surprisingly cool weather 70°F) to 105th street.
This story was meant to be about the fantastic band we saw at Smoke, the Neal Smith sextet, but the back story took over the front and middle stories.
These guys are what living in New York is all about: semi-random encounters with people at the top of their field. Here was a group of players, half really really good, the others great. One of the really really good ones, Vincent Gardener, is currently playing with Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra. These guys (Neal Smith sextet) were sick. They played tight, together, so together they made it look easy. They were so restrained at times -- half the band would drop out, walk off the floor-level, 8 foot by 16 foot, "stage", for long sections of many songs. From there, they play the occasional fill, un-miked. Then gradually rejoin the band on stage.
The band would transition from a raucous horn or piano plus drums duet to a slow, quiet, sexy-smooth sax solo. I generally am not impressed with sax players (the instrument lets them play lots of notes real fast, so they almost always do). The band's two sax players, Abraham Burton (tenor) and Andrew Beales (alto, the only white guy), were exquisite. I was in awe. They were both restrained, melodic, with dynamic changes (they'd play loud AND soft), with clean tone but with guttural punctuations of sound.
The piano player, Ronnie Mathews, was great. He looked elegant and played elegantly. It would be nice to hear him by himself sometime. The rest of the band: Neal Smith (drums) and Paul Beaudry (bass), I'll say
again, were really really good.
The audience was prime too. "Real Jazzheads," to quote a guy we shared a table with. That makes a big difference. At Kavehaz, which we love, you have to sit up close to hear the band over the scene-sters and yuppies talking their ultra-consumerist, gossipy noise.
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